On Saturday, I was leaving the swim club when I ran into Kathy.
Kathy said, "Hey, Laura. I heard that Ian is going to be mainstreamed this fall. I heard that he's going to the elementary school in town. That's just great. I told [younger son] that Ian was going to be in his class and that he should look after him."
"Ah, Ian isn't coming back to the school district. Maybe next year. Right now, he needs another year in his special school."
"Oh, that's strange. Where did I heard that again? Oh yeah. [Older son who is in Jonah's class] said that Jonah told him. Yeah. Jonah told [older son] that Ian was going to be in school with [younger son]."
"Oh, God. Jonah must really want it badly."
Awkward moment and quick good-byes.
Over the weekend, my mom and I took the boys to the faraway mall to get haircuts for the boys. We have to go to the faraway mall for haircuts, because Ian used to have terrible trouble with haircuts, and we're afraid of changing salons. I had already tortured Ian with a dental appointment and a trip to the pediatrician that week, so I thought I would go for a trifecta of torture.
Ian was wound pretty tightly, because my mom was pushing his buttons, and things weren't going as planned; the salon was closed for renovations.
After the haircut plan was derailed, I went to Sports Authority to return a t-shirt. For some reason, Ian snapped. He suddenly tore away from my mom and ran somewhere in the store. My mom staked out the entrance, and Jonah and I ran through the store calling his name. I did four laps around the store. I ran past the basketball hoops, the sporting equipment, the golf clubs. Did he run out of the store and into the mall when nobody was looking?
I was two minutes away from getting the manager to shut down the store, when I saw a pair of red crocs sticking out of a rack of running shorts. He was hiding in a stack of clothes. He was sitting on the ground with his head covered. I pulled him out and he ran again. He's very fast, but I finally got him and then he started to cry. He was upset about losing control. My mom was upset. Jonah was upset. Ice cream didn't help much. These incidents don't happen like they did the past — maybe every six months or so — but it takes everyone longer to recover.
Recovery is happening. Jonah started his beloved Fancy Camp this week, where they're feeding and entertaining him nicely. We found a new, closer hair salon, and Ian got his hair cut like a champ. He starts his summer school camp next week. I'm burying myself in a crappy mystery novel.
Apt. 11d 